


No More Hope

by annamariestark



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 00:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamariestark/pseuds/annamariestark
Summary: This is what happens when the angst starts flying at 2 am on Discord.Muriel finds Asra at the docks, mourning.





	No More Hope

Asra only made it as far back as the docks. He sat, sobbing, clutching something in his bloodied hands. His clothes were covered in blood. Faust peeked her head out from his satchel, peering up dolefully at him.

_Friend?_

“No, Faust,” Asra choked out. “Anna is gone. She’s dead and it’s my fault. I wasn’t here for her and she… she died alone.” His voice cracked on the last word and he lapsed into a semblance of silence only broken by his sobs. His mind flickered to the screaming match they’d had three weeks prior.

“Anna, please,” he’d pleaded. “We have to get out of Vesuvia, it’s not safe. The plague is only getting worse.”

“I’m staying. These people need my help. I have to do something.”

“You can’t save everyone! You could die!” He slammed his fist onto the shop counter. “You have to come with me. Now.” He grabbed her wrist, and she wrenched it back from him.

“No! I’m not going. I don’t care what the risks are. All I know is that I’m not going to stand idly by, or run away. If you’re _so_ _keen_ on leaving, then go!”

“Fine!” Asra shouted at her. “I’m leaving then!”

“Good! Go! Run away from your problems, just like you always do!” She threw one of his red scarves in his face and he swiped it out of the air, wrapping it around himself. He threw on his hat, stomping angrily around the shop, gathering up his things. Faust hid hurriedly in his clothing, clearly not wanting to get involved. He turned to glare at Anna one last time before leaving in a whirlwind, slamming the shop door behind him.

_I never said goodbye to her. Never told her again how much I love her._

“What are you doing here.” Muriel’s deep voice piped up behind Asra, interrupting his thoughts. He turned slightly, before shaking his head and staring back out over the water to the Lazaret.

Muriel frowned deeply and leaned down to tug at Asra’s sleeve. It took him several moments to notice that Asra was covered in blood.

“Come on. It’s late.”

“No.”

_Help!_ Faust chirped at Muriel. He nodded and stooped to pick Asra up. There was no more protest. Asra hung limp in his arms, tears still flowing freely.

“She’s gone,” he whispered. Muriel sighed heavily.

“How do you know.”

Asra opened his hand to reveal a somewhat-charred and now bloodied moonstone. Muriel recognized it immediately. Asra had given it to Anna as a gift not long after they’d begun their relationship. The metal wrappings and chain had been melted away.

“I’m taking you home.”

Always true to his word, Muriel took Asra home, carefully crept up the stairs. By now, Asra was completely withdrawn. No words, only tears. Muriel had to work to pry the moonstone from Asra’s bloody fingers, had to help him undress. He drew a warm bath, but Asra just stood next to the tub, staring out the window at the slivers of moonlight creeping in. Sighing again, Muriel picked Asra up and put him in the tub. Gingerly, he cleaned his wounds, washed away the blood and ash covering him. Through it all, Asra did nothing but stare at the wall.

The bath finished, Muriel lifted Asra from the tub, helped him dry off, collected some clean and dry clothes. Asra did not respond when handed his clothing, so Muriel found himself dressing Asra before carrying him over to the bed. Once he was seated on the edge of the bed, Asra began to cry again. Sitting in Anna’s spot was a scarf he’d bought her on one of their trips together. He collapsed onto a ball with his back to Muriel, breath coming in ragged gasps as he sobbed. He clutched the scarf like it was the last thing he had in the world.

“Maybe the stone was someone else’s,” Muriel murmured, though he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who its owner had been. “There’s still hope, maybe.”

“No,” Asra said weakly, gulping for air. “She’s gone. I have no more hope.”


End file.
